The Kentuckian flung himself at full length
on the sward, just in front of Charles. He had a strange head of
hair, very thick and shaggy. I don't know why, but, of a sudden, it
reminded me of the Mexican Seer, whom we had learned to remember as
Colonel Clay's first embodiment. At the same moment the same thought
seemed to run through Charles's head; for, strange to say, with
a quick impulse he leant forward and examined it. I saw Mrs.
Quackenboss draw back in wonder. The hair looked too thick and close
for nature. It ended abruptly, I now remembered, with a sharp line
on the forehead. Could this, too, be a wig? It seemed very probable.
Even as I thought that thought, Charles appeared to form a sudden
and resolute determination. With one lightning swoop he seized the
doctor's hair in his powerful hand, and tried to lift it off bodily.
He had made a bad guess. Next instant the doctor uttered a loud and
terrified howl of pain, while several of his hairs, root and all,
came out of his scalp in Charles's hand, leaving a few drops of
blood on the skin of the head in the place they were torn from.
There was no doubt at all it was not a wig, but the Kentuckian's
natural hirsute covering.
The scene that ensued I am powerless to describe. My pen is unequal
to it.
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